Restless Waters
by Shujinkakusama
Summary: AU. Genfic. The Pharaoh's been kidnapped, and Malik's got the esteemed honor of having to do his job for him. He's not happy. Atem's mother's not happy, either.


Hey again! This one might take some explaining. It's for a larger, more complicated universe I probably won't ever finish fic for, but love dabbling in anyway, so you might see more from the same universe in the future.

This universe includes time- and space-travel shenanigans, wherein Item-bearers from post-series Domino have found their way to another universe's Ancient Egypt and travel between the two eras. Over time, Malik landed the title of vizier, mostly by getting over some of his issues with the idea of the Pharaoh and becoming friends with the one in that world.

Meritities is Atem's mother, back from the dead. I mostly wanted to do some Malik introspection, and this popped out.

**Word Count:** 1,721

**Warnings:** Meritities is an OC, some mention of other OCs along the way.

Malik was not happy.

Actually, not happy was an incredibly mild way to describe his feelings. There weren't many things, now, that could get under his skin more than feeling helpless, and knowing he had absolutely no control of a situation—any situation—was worse than actually _losing_. But between having to front well for the sake of everyone else, and fighting off whatever hell-sent bug was after his immune system, he didn't have the energy to be well and properly furious.

Atem had been missing for going on three days.

The blonde heaved an annoyed sigh, slipping his crown off to set it on his bedside table. Even if it was _his_, it seemed wrong wearing it now. It was one thing, dressing and acting the part, pretending to be the Pharaoh, when he had explicit permission. But they'd been out of options, this time; Mahaad was well on his way to being a complete wreck over the rightful king's disappearance, and Set was missing again. Who better to step in than the vizier?

Who better, indeed. Malik's lips twisted into a scowl as he fumbled with the ties under his mantle. There were a million and one reasons he didn't belong on the throne, especially at a time like this, when he couldn't concentrate. Wheat and grain storage for the winter were the last things he cared about, and if it hadn't been Mahaad reading the annual report, he likely would have left. Mahaad needed something to do, too, after all. He needed something to focus on so that he didn't blame himself.

Not that Atem was easy to _track_. The Ring couldn't find him without the Puzzle, and Azibo had that. Malik had tried at least a dozen universes, knowing that Atem could and sometimes _did_ 'port without his Item, and he'd come up completely empty. There was still the universe he had to be wished into and out of, and Malik wasn't sure if it was worth trying. He'd almost put himself out of commission once already, and…

"Damnit!" he cursed, finally giving up with the hidden latch on his collar. For all that he'd once boasted about wanting this job, the former Tomb Keeper had found that he wanted nothing to _do_ with it. He could sit on the throne; he could look impressive; he could pitch his voice to boom like thunder on a good day; he could make decisions, all while looking to Mahaad or Isis for approval, because he sure as hell didn't know what he was doing; he could read the people that walked into the throne room like open books, for all their skill as actors, but he wouldn't _like_ it. He didn't belong sitting still for two seconds.

"Malik…?"

He started, looking up sharply. He hadn't heard anyone coming, but—

Meritities was in the doorway, pale and worried, looking all the more like her son than Malik wanted to think about. He swallowed, hard. He didn't think the poor woman had managed any more sleep than Mahaad, since Atem's disappearance. "Aa, hi, Queen-Mama," he tried to tease, knowing that it wasn't in his voice. Not right now. Right now, he wanted to sleep, and wake up to see his stupid best friend bouncing around the palace like nothing had happened. "Come on in."

She did, and Malik watched her almost warily. Meritities was harmless—but normally, she walked with purpose, with the kind of glide in her step that dancers faked because all eyes were on them, and tonight she looked like the wind was completely drained from her sails. She plopped down at the edge of his bed, and Malik was surprised by how _old_ she looked now that she wasn't spinning like a top and smiling like the sun.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, and it hurt Malik's heart to see that she couldn't bring herself to _try_ smiling. "I shouldn't be bothering you. You've had a long day."

The blonde shook his head, awkwardly settling for sitting about an arm's length away. "It's fine. I don't have any new news, though," Malik said, wincing a little. Well, he was good at direct. No denying that. Tact was for people like Yuugi and Mahaad, whose brains finished working before their mouths opened.

Meritities shook her head, then brushed her too-long bangs back out of her face. "I know. I'm sure you would have found me if you had."

Malik guessed that was true. More likely, he thought, he would've charged headlong into whatever mess Atem was neck-deep in, and let someone else pass the good news on. He frowned a little, reaching a hand out to pat her on the shoulder gingerly. "We'll find him." Even if the words sounded hollow, now. For all he knew, Atem could have been abducted by aliens—and as stupid as that reach was, Malik made a mental note to ask Receba about it. "He'll be okay."

"I know," she replied, and Malik didn't understand the sureness in her voice. The woman noticed, and tried to smile for him. It didn't meet her eyes. "I still worry. But the Gods have plans for him. I know he'll be home soon. I just can't bear waiting."

"Me too," Malik spoke automatically, looking away and dropping his hand to his lap. His shoulders sagged. He knew _exactly_ what plans the Gods had for Atem, and knew that this didn't factor into them, but… "If he's not home for my birthday, I'm going to punch him. If you'll excuse the treason."

That got a chuckle out of her, at least, and Malik tried to relax a little. Well, chuckles were… good. Better than nothing. Meritities squeezed his arm. "You're good friends," she said, "I'm sure he would forgive _you_."

The noise Malik made was only half in agreement, and his gaze was focused a million miles _elsewhere_. That was five days away, and the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to. Most of his feelings to do with his birthday were locked away under years of better memories, dulled with time and a desperate urge to just _forget_ them. Last year's had been the best he'd ever had; decadent and silly, with a mock wedding, and all of Egypt having to celebrate with him—and Malik didn't think he could top how good it had felt, really celebrating, with everyone he loved now, if anything happened to Atem.

Somewhere, some angry part of him didn't _want_ his life to revolve so tightly around someone he could lose. Someone whose end Malik had known the gritty, awful details of long before they even _met_. But he'd known, going in. And he'd dived right in anyway.

Deeper down, he saw the irony, and tried not to. Talk about walking right into fate's arms…

"—He'll come home soon."

Malik almost jumped. Right. People. The last thing he needed to be marinating on was Atem's eventual death, especially in front of his mother. The blonde tried to smile, wondered if he'd missed anything she had said, because he certainly hadn't heard it. "Aa. He will. Mahaad's on it. We'll find him soon."

He hoped. And from the look on the former queen's face, she was in the same boat. Waiting was a game Malik wasn't made for, and he knew it—he didn't know how his sister could wait around for _anything_, much less big things. But she was just as sure that Atem would return as his mother, and that was without the Torque giving her anything concrete to look forward to.

They settled into silence. Malik tried not to let his thoughts get the best of him, even if Meritities' presence helped drain some of his anger. Not being _alone _helped.

"I might…" Malik paused. It wasn't as if he really needed the woman's permission, but it felt like he should at least _tell_ her. He sighed. "I might go home tonight. I'll be back in the morning; I've got everything lined up for tomorrow. But… I don't think I can stay, right now." What he wouldn't give to have his motorcycle road-ready, too. That would solve _everything_. He could ride off his tension, relax again, listen to nothing by the wind—

Risk another near-death accident.

Maybe it was better that his bike _was_ still mostly scrap at the garage. He couldn't put that on anyone else. Not right now.

"That's fine," Meritities said quietly, "You should be where your heart wants to be. There's nothing here that can't wait for morning."

That was the truth, and Malik still didn't like it. He sighed, pushing himself back up off the bed. "You should rest, too," he said, reaching back again, trying to pull stray hair out of his collar to go for the latches again. "Go sleep with Radames… you know what I mean." That, finally, got a genuine smile out of the woman, and he could see it in the polished gold mirror. Good. He hadn't been going for humor, but there were worse ways she could have taken it. He went on, knowing that he wouldn't follow his own advice. "You'll feel better. And… we'll need you in top shape when 'Tem comes home. He'd cry if he upset you."

"You know him best," Meritities said, rising in turn and moving behind him. "I'll get that. It's not meant for you to take it off while you're wearing it," she said, deftly sliding the pins out and downward from the back. The collar finally came away, and Malik wondered how much of the weight on his shoulders was in his mind, even as Meritities put the collar away.

"Thanks."

"You're running our country for my son. I should be the one thanking you," she replied, taking his burgundy cloak, too, to hang it for the night. Malik watched her, surprised, but too tired to protest. "You're doing wonderfully, you know. I don't think anyone that's not close to him knows."

Malik shrugged awkwardly. Without the trappings, it was easier to be himself. "It's all I can do, right?"

Meritities turned back to him, with the gentle sort of smile that Isis used to give him. "It's enough, Malik. You're doing your best. No one will ask you for more than that."


End file.
